


The Librarian Series

by Emily_F6



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: When Tony finds out that his intern needs a home, he is determined to give him one.  A series of interconnected one-shots from Tumblr prompts.  Each prompt is from a line on a random page of the closest book.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 96
Kudos: 460





	1. “I don’t mean a legal guardian.  I mean someone who actually, you know, looks after him.”

**OMG I’m so glad I did this one first because the quote is from John Green’s _Turtles All the Way Down_ , an excellent book, and the line was so good! (I just went to my bookcase and picked one at random with my eyes closed because I wasn’t near any books.)**

**“I don’t mean a legal guardian. I mean someone who actually, you know, looks after him.”**

Colonel James Rhodes leaned against Tony’s workbench, arms crossed, watching as Tony swiped almost frantically through holographic images of a boy named Peter Parker. Apparently, Pepper had convinced Tony to start an internship program, and out of all the applicants in New York City, this boy had been one of the most impressive. 

“Rhodey, the kid managed to create webbing! Like…like a spider web. For medical use. It closes wounds like you wouldn’t believe. And he made it in his high school chemistry class!” Tony had told him, gesturing wildly and running a hand through wild, unruly hair. “He’s fourteen years old and he made that kind of medical advancement in his high school chemistry lab. Can you imagine what he could do with some training and some actual materials.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” the man had allowed, nodding along almost bemusedly. He knew that Tony hadn’t even wanted to do the internship program, what with all the other things on his plate, namely the Accords that were still being ironed out. But now, it seemed, he was on board. And after looking over some of the kid’s work through the next few weeks, Rhodey had to agree. The kid was smart. May almost as smart as Tony had been at that age. And had the boy been given access to the kind of education Tony had, Rhodey thought, the kid might even had been on par with his best friend. 

He met young Peter Parker two months into the internship, and although he hadn’t known what he’d been expecting, he found himself taken aback. Peter Parker was short, almost a head shorter than Tony, with big brown eyes and curly hair. As soon as he’d laid eyes on Rhodey, the kid’s eyes had gone wide and his jaw had dropped. “You’re…Colonel James Rhodes! Iron Patriot!”

“War Machine,” Tony had muttered under his breath, and Peter had laughed a little before holding out a hand. 

“It’s…it’s such an honor to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too, kiddo. I’ve heard a lot about you. All very impressive.”

“I…wow…um…thank you!” 

Rhodey had learned a lot about Peter Parker that evening, namely that he went to Midtown School of Science and Technology, was at the top of his class, and that he thought Tony hung the moon and stars. And, after watching his old friend interact with the boy, he had to admit, the kid was good for Tony. He softened him a little. Gave him someone to look after. To care about. Tony had always been so good at caring about people. 

Then, Rhodey had asked the question he’d quickly come to regret. “So, what do your parents think about this whole thing? They must be proud.” 

Tony had immediately lowered his eyes, lips pressed together, and Peter had gotten a strange look on his face before swallowing hard and informing Rhodey that roughly six months ago, the boy had gone into the foster care system after the death of his last living relative, a police officer with the NYPD. And Rhodey had remembered reading about Ben Parker, although he hadn’t been able to remember the specifics. Still, Rhodey had apologized, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and the kid had brushed it off, assuring him that it was fine, then excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

“I’m so sorry…I had no idea,” Rhodey had told Tony as softly as he could, and Tony had shaken his head.

“It’s okay. I did the same thing when I met him…I should have read his file more carefully but…” Tony had shrugged “I looked into the family. I know, I know,” he’d waved a hand at Rhodey’s incredulous look. “Unethical, invasion of privacy, blah blah…but they seem okay.”

Now, Rhodey watched as Tony drummed his fingers on the table, shaking his head. “Arrested for drug possession!” he barked, spinning around in his chair and staring at Rhodey. “Drug possession! They had drugs in that house! With…with Peter!”

“I’m sure Peter is fine,” Rhodey placated, but Tony wouldn’t be comforted. 

“Did you know that this is his third foster home in six months! His third! The first family didn’t want a teenager…they just offered to let him stay a few days until they found a better family for him. Who the hell could meet Peter Parker and not want to keep him? And the second family decided to move back to Texas to be with their parents and didn’t want to take him with them. Like he was a…a dog or something they had to rehome! For fuck’s sake, Rhodey.” Tony wiped a hand over his face, shaking his head. 

“I’m sure his social worker will find him a new home, Tony,” Rhodey reassured him. 

“He called me..said he’d have to miss his internship tonight and he was apologizing…they’ve got him at some charity place for the night. He…he sounded like he was crying and…” Tony swore again, wiping a hand over his face. “He’s fourteen. He lost his parents before he started school and now…”

“He’s going to be okay. He’s a smart kid…smart and resilient…”

“He told me that people don’t want teenagers,” Tony whispered. “Told me that no one ever wants to adopt a fourteen year old.” 

“I’m sure they’ll be able to find him a family.” Rhodey repeated, although he wasn’t sure if he believed it. 

“But…but he needs someone, Rhodey! And I don’t mean a legal guardian. I mean someone who actually, you know, looks after him. Someone that sees how smart he is and…and what a good kid he is. Because he’s a good kid, Rhodey. Such a good kid. And…and responsible and smart and…and funny. Hell, just last week he asked if I’d ever seen that ‘really old movie, The Empire Strikes Back.’”

The idea came to Rhodey slowly, half-formed, and as soon as he thought it, he knew it was crazy. But as he watched his best friend wrestle with the fate of this poor kid, he thought that maybe it wasn’t that crazy after all. “Tones?”

“Yeah?”

“What about you?”

Tony frowned. “What about me?”

“You’ve got a home. Plenty of room. Fairly stable income.”

“You…Rhodey, I can’t be his…his foster parent!”

“Why not?” Rhodey shrugged. “You obviously care about the kid. You could probably get certified and take the courses you need. Get temporary custody. Hell, adopt him. You don’t have to be a foster parent to adopt in New York. You have plenty of sway, Tones. Why not use it for good?”

“Rhodey…I can’t adopt a kid.” 

He smiled when the statement came out as more of a question. “Sure you can. Hell, who better? You know him already. He obviously thinks the world of you. Not to mention, you make your own hours at work, so you’ll have plenty of time to spend with him.”

“But…but what if he doesn’t want me to adopt him?” Tony asked after a moment, voice surprisingly hesitant. Rhodey sighed, moving to take a seat beside his friend.

“Tony, I could tell after knowing that kid for two minutes that you were his hero. He looks at you like you’re…well, a superhero. Literally. Peter needs a family. Maybe you can be the one to give it to him. Besides, how else am I going to be an uncle?”

It took a long minute, but Tony gave him a slow smile, the kind he rarely showed the other Avenges. But Rhodey had known Tony for what felt like his whole life. “You really think I could do it?”

“I know you could.”

After a few more seconds of thought, Tony nodded, just a little to himself, but Rhodey grinned, recognizing a victory when he saw one. His friend had made up his mind, and when Tony Stark made up his mind to do something, it got done. 


	2. "I don't know why I packed them."

**Thanks! So this one is from _the Word Ghost_ by Christine Paice. I’ve never read this book, but I bought it when I was living in Australia and always meant to read it! Now I might!**

**“I don’t know why I packed them.”**

Peter sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, staring at the two garbage bags and the briefcase that made up all of his worldly possessions. Against one wall was a bed that looked like it had one served in the army, with navy green sheets tucked perfectly into the mattress and a metal bed frame with springs peeking out from the side. Underneath it was empty except for dust, and Mrs. Post had ordered him to clean up before it was time to leave. She had four more foster kids, all under the age of six, and had possibly been coerced into taking him. At least, that’s how she had acted when he’d first come the week before. 

“I don’t know what your last family was like, but in this house, I expect respect from all the children. Do you understand?”

He’d nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The words had seemed to mollify her, and on the day that he was supposed to go to his internship at Stark Industries, instead he had followed her up to the room he would temporarily be staying in, resisting the urge to ask if he could use her phone. He’d wanted to call Mr. Stark…to apologize again for missing their internship and for crying like a little kid on the phone a few days ago when his social work had pulled him out of school early to explain the situation to him. She had been really nice about it, like she always was, and had let him use her cellphone to call.

All week, he’d been on his best behavior, helping with the other foster kids and making sure to do his homework and say ‘ma’am’ and eat whatever was put in front of him. And then, the day before, he’d gotten a visit from his social worker, Ellen, who had joined him in his room, sitting on his bed. She’d smiled at him, clasping her hands together in her lap, and he’d felt his stomach drop. “Peter. It’s good to see you. How are you doing here?”

“She’s sending me away? Already?” he’d asked, tears burning his eyes. “I…I didn’t cause any trouble or…” He didn’t say the rest…that he hadn’t used his freaky new powers or accidentally broken anything like he had at the first house. Ellen didn’t know about the powers. No one did. The only person he’d even come close to telling was Mr. Stark, but he’d been too afraid in the end.

Ellen had reached out, putting a hand on his. “I told you when I brought you here that this was a temporary arrangement…remember?” 

He’d nodded, wiping a hand roughly over his eyes. “Yeah.”

“But I do have some good news. I found a family that wanted to take you in…we’re getting everything finalized so I can’t give you any details yet, but they’re interested in adoption.”

“They want to adopt a teenager?” Peter had asked skeptically. She’d given him a soft smile.

“They’re very interested. I don’t want to make any promises, but I think this is going to be a family that you’ll be happy with.”

Now he sat on the floor, holding the small mechanical web-shooters that he’d been working on before Ben had been killed…that he’d shoved into his uncle’s old briefcase along with whatever clothes his hands had landed on. His laptop. His backpack with his school books. So much had been left behind. His posters and figurines. His Lego kits. His movies. What had happened to all of those things? Just the thought made his eyes heat up, and he dropped his head, letting the tears come, as if he had a choice.

“I don’t even know why I packed them,” he whispered, clutching the web-shooters but not hard enough to break them. He’d had a dream. An idea. A fantasy. That he could be a superhero. That with his powers, he could save people. Make the world a better place. “It was…so stupid.” 

The knock on the door startled him, and he rubbed a hand over his eyes, grabbed the duster that Mrs. Post had given him, and ran it under the bed. Stuffing the webshooters into one of the garbage bags, he hurried over to the door and opened it. Ellen stood there, a small smile on her face that dropped when she saw his face. “Peter,” she murmured, reaching out and gripping his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, voice hoarse.

“Why don’t you sit down?” she suggested, leading him over to the bed. 

“Really…I’m okay. We can go.”

“We will. Your new guardian wanted to speak with Mrs. Post…they’re outside.”

“They…my guardian is here?”

“He is.” The word ‘he’ made Peter hesitate, but Ellen was still smiling that reassuring smile. “Do you have everything?”

“Yeah.” He thought about asking what had happened to the rest of his stuff…if he would ever get it back, but figured she wouldn’t know. So he just sat on the bed next to her until he heard footsteps on the stairs to his attic room. It wasn’t even a bedroom, really. Just a sloped-ceiling room with a bed and a dresser, a crip pushed to the side. She didn’t want a teenager. No one did.

“Peter, I’m going to give you two a minute, okay?” Ellen asked softly, and he nodded, staring down at the wooden floorboards until she had left the room and another person moved to stand beside him. Peter frowned, taking a breath of a smell so familiar that his head jerked up, heart stuttering when he saw Mr. Stark at his side. 

Jumping to his feet so quickly his head spun, Peter swayed a little, wishing he’d thought to eat breakfast, then managed to steady himself before Mr. Stark could put a hand on his arm. “Mr. Stark? What…what are you doing here?” he cried, wiping at his face again and hoping it looked casual.

“Did she not tell you?” Mr. Stark asked, reaching out and placing a heavy, warm hand on his shoulder. “I thought…uh…well, I knew you needed a home and I thought…well, what better place than Avengers Tower, huh?”

It took Peter half a second to understand. And part of him wanted to shake his head. To insist that he didn’t need his boss’s pity or charity. That he would be fine. But that part of him was quickly overruled by the rest of him as a wave of relief so strong that he burst into tears practically bowled him over. The hand on his shoulder tightened, and Mr. Stark pulled him close without hesitation, wrapping his arms around him. “Oh, bud…” he murmured, pressing a hand against the back of Peter’s head. “Hey…buddy, it’s okay. It’s alright.” 

Peter shook his head, words bursting out of him before he could stop them. “You…you don’t want me…”

“Pete…of course I want you,” the man assured him as he moved to sit on the bed, pulling Peter with him. 

“You don’t…because…because…” 

Mr. Stark pulled away just a little, cupping a hand over his cheek and looking very serious. “Why? Why wouldn’t I want the smartest, kindest, best kid I’ve ever met?”

“Because…” Peter shook his head, still crying and unable to stop. He knew he should just keep his mouth shut. He knew that this was a stupid thing he was doing. But Mr. Stark was smart! He would find out and then he would send him back and Peter couldn’t stand the thought…he thought the rejection would actually kill him if it were coming from Mr. Stark. “I’m…because I’m…a…a freak!” he whispered, going on before Mr. Stark could argue. “I am! I was on a field trip before…before my uncle died. At Oscorp. And I got bit by a spider and…and now…now I can climb things and I’m strong and I accidentally broke a doorknob at the first foster home because I was upset and…”

“Woah, woah…take a breath, Pete. You’re okay,” the man assured him softly, brushing some hair out of his face. “Are you saying that you’re enhanced?” Peter nodded, miserable. Ready to be left. To be given away again just like he had been four times now. Instead, to his surprise, Mr. Stark pulled him close again, rubbing gentle circles over his back. “Oh, buddy…I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that alone. But it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“You…you still want…me?”

“Of course I want you, Peter. Didn’t you hear me call you the best kid I’ve ever met?” the man asked, a smile in his voice. “Now, how about we get you home, huh?”

The word made Peter’s chest ache, and he nodded, trying and failing to make the tears stop. Mr. Stark seemed to understand though, holding him for a long time until he was finally able to stop crying, his shuddering breaths the only remnant of his sobs. 

“You ready?” 

Peter nodded again, really ready this time.

“Is this all your stuff?”

With a painful smile, he nodded once more, and Mr. Stark looked down at the two garbage bags and the briefcase sadly. “I…I didn’t have a lot of time to pack after…so…so I had to leave most of my stuff,” Peter admitted.

“Maybe we can see about getting some of that back, huh?” Peter perked up at that, and Mr. Stark grabbed one of the garbage bags. “If we can’t, I’ll try to replace what you lost. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered, grabbing the other garbage bag and the briefcase. As he picked up the garbage bag, though, something fell off the top, and Mr. Stark bent down, picking up the webshooter he’d hastily tried to stuff inside. Narrowing his eyes, Mr. Stark studied it. 

“What’s this?” he asked, pushing down on the trigger. Nothing happened…there was no cartridge. 

“It’s…um…it was going to be a webshooter. For…for the webbing I made.”

“Yeah?” the man asked, turning to him, face open and curious. 

“I…I thought maybe if I could get something to shoot the webs…and if they could hold my weight…” Peter shrugged, face coloring. “I wanted…I wanted to help people.”

“You were going to try to be a vigilante?” Tony asked, voice unreadable, and Peter nodded, not looking at him.

“I…yeah. I mean, I have these…these powers and…and if I could help people then…” He trailed off and shrugged again. “I wanted to be like you.”

Mr. Stark put the garbage bag down, moving over to Peter with the webshooter and placing it gently back in the bag before resting his hands on Peter’s shoulders, eyes soft. “Oh, kiddo…you are going to be so much better than me. That’s a promise.” 

Peter leaned his head forward, accept the comfort Mr. Stark was offering, and for a moment, the two stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around each other, bags forgotten. Then, finally, the man pulled away, giving Peter a soft smile. “Alright, buddy. Let’s get you home.”


	3. "Looking for someone?"

**This is from _Looking for Alibrandi_ by Melina Marchetta, the other book I bought in Australia but haven’t read yet! **

**“Looking for someone?”**

Tony lay on his back, dazed, watching the ceiling for a long moment before trying to sit up. A hand on his shoulder pushed him down and he groaned as the world spun. His ears rang and his head throbbed and for a moment, he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. “Wha…” he started to ask, but the word refused to come and he closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing against a sandpaper throat. “What…”

“Easy…take it easy, Tones,” a familiar voice murmured. “You’re alright, man. Just take a minute.” 

Something pricked him in the arm and he flinched before a warm rush of relief filled him. As the pain faded, his brain struggled to come up with some explanation…some memory. He opened his eyes again, looking up and finding the blurry form of his oldest friend sitting beside him, leaning over him just a little. “Tones?”

“Rhodey?”

“Yeah, man.” Rhodey grinned, sighing in relief. “How are you feeling?”

“I…I don’t…I can’t remember what happened.”

“I was hoping you could tell us.” When Tony only blinked at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, Rhodey went on. “We found you guys in a Hydra bunker…you went missing a week ago.”

At the term ‘you guys’ Tony’s heart practically stopped…because ‘you guys’ was plural. ‘You guys’ meant someone else had been with him. And with a suddenness that made his head hurt despite the pain medicine, he remembered. Peter. Peter had been with him. 

They hadn’t been on a mission. They hadn’t even been at Peter’s internship. They had been going out for ice cream, just the two of them. Peter had been chatting about school Tony had been leading the way to his favorite local ice cream place after dinner, the two of them wanting to stretch their legs after an entire Saturday afternoon spent in the lab, when the car had pulled up beside them…when a man had jumped out in the middle of the street, the sun just beginning to set…and there had been gunshots and screaming…and the world had gone dark for Tony as he’d watched Peter drop to his knees, a hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder.

He’d come to in the cell, immediately finding Peter sprawled out in a cell beside him, the two of the separated by a wall made of bars. “Peter? Pete!” he’d called, dragging himself upright despite the pounding headache and forcing his body over to the wall between them. He’d had the boy for a year…one year, and now Peter Parker, the kid who had been his intern, was his son in every way there was except biologically. And not just his son. A genius in his own right. A brilliant, good kid who was also a fledgling superhero in training. That’s what they’d been working on in the lab all day…a suit. A suit that would keep his kid safe while he tried to help people. A suit filled with protocols and a monitor meant to make sure that Tony could always get to him.

And now there was a wall of bars keeping them apart.

Peter had stirred after a moment, rolling over and revealing a puddle of blood. “Pete? Buddy? Hey…look at me, Peter!” Slowly, the kid had turned his head at the order, blinking a few times and grimacing.

“Dad?”

“Yeah…it’s me, buddy. Can you come here?”

Slowly, painstakingly, Peter had struggled to his feet, stumbling the length of the cell until he had reached the bars, and one he had slid down to sit on the floor, Tony had reached his arms through the bars and wrapped them around the boy as best he could. Peter had been fighting tears…fighting the terror that Tony had already felt, but he’d done his best to reassure the boy.

“It’s okay…it’s going to be okay. The Avengers are going to come. I promise, Pete. We’re going to be okay.”

The first day, they’d given them a tray with molding bread and two bottles of water. The next, there was nothing. And Peter had laid slumped against the wall between them, Tony’s arms wrapped awkwardly around him, stomach growling then screaming with hunger. On the third day, they’d taken Tony…he remembered that part well. He remembered the beating when he’d refused to make them an Iron Man suit. Remembered being thrown back into his cell and hurting too badly to crawl back to Peter. Remembered waking up hours or maybe even a full day later to find Peter unconscious beside the bars, an arm outstretched, reaching for him.

Remembered screaming. Begging. Begging for them to give the boy food. To kill him if they had to but not to let his son die. Not like this. Not in a cage. He remembered a bowl of cold soup and trying to pour it into Peter’s mouth. Remembered pressing his hands against a wound that should have healed sooner but wouldn’t because the kid wasn’t getting enough to eat.

And he remembered an explosion.

“Peter? Where’s Peter?” Tony demanded, grabbing Rhodey’s sleeve with every bit of strength he possessed

“Easy, Tones. He’ll be okay. They have him hooked up to an IV. He’s going to be okay.” 

As if those had been the magic words, Tony’s hand fell of its own accord, his body slumping back against the bed, and that was the last thing he knew for a long time.

When Tony opened his eyes again, he was in the medbay. He knew it instantly as he’d spent his fair share of time there. Glancing at the IV in his arm with a grimace, he tried to set up, then gave up when the world spun.

“Hey, Tony.” Rhodey’s voice came from his left and he turned, blinking heavily at the man. “How you feeling, man?”

“Fine…” He tried to look past his friend and Rhodey smiled.

“Looking for someone?” 

Without making him say it, Rhodey sat back a little and pulled on the curtain separating his little room from the one beside him. And in a bed, just a few feet away, was Peter. The kid still looked too thin, cheekbones sunken, bruises below his eyes, but he was hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor that informed Tony that his kid was okay. Just like Rhodey had promised. 

“Help me up,” he urged, and without questioning it, Rhodey nodded and gripped his arm, carefully wheeling the IV cart along with them until Tony had reached Peter’s bed. As carefully as he could, the man sat down, then lay back, his head on the pillow beside Peter’s. “Hey,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the side of Peter’s temple, relishing the feel of his son in his arms, no bars between them. “Hey, buddy. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” And, wrapping his arms around the boy and smiling when Rhodey draped a blanket over the both of them, Tony let himself drift back into sleep. 


	4. “Everyone was smoking cigarettes, mouths stained with red wine."

**This is from The Jetsetters by Amanda Eyre Ward, a book I got from the library and still haven’t read, which tells you that a lack of free time was not my problem.**

**“Everyone was smoking cigarettes, mouths stained with red wine.”**

It was nearly ten pm when Tony thought to check the time, and although he’d had a feeling it was getting late. Beside him, even Pepper had started to yawn a little, leaning on him just a bit as she tried to shift her weight from one foot to the other. He’d suggested she not wear high heels to the Stark Industries gala this year, but she’d given him a look, rolling her eyes and reminding him that she had to. Taking a sip of his drink, he wondered if banning heels at the next SI even would go over well…surely the women wouldn’t mind. 

The cake in the corner had long ago been eating, with everyone wishing him a happy birthday even though the fact that the annual gala had fallen on his birthday this year had been a coincidence, as he kept insisting, and had even suggested they move it. Pepper had refused, and thirty minutes into the charity event, a cake had been rolled out, bearing his face that he’d then watched the chef cut into in a somewhat disconcerting manner. He had ended up with a piece featuring his mustache, which had been delicious. He’d also grabbed a second piece, asking one of the assistance to put it aside and keep it in the fridge until he could take it upstairs. 

Tony supported Peppers weight, running a finger up and down her arm, taking comfort in the familiar motion. It was a warm evening, and the air was on full, blowing cool air through the vents in the floor that the women were all careful to avoid. Outside on the balcony were a group of men and women standing in groups by the railing. Everyone was smoking cigarettes, mouths stained with red wine, and he took another drink of his water, turning quickly away from thoughts of alcohol.

He hadn’t had a drink in a full year now.

Pepper squeezed his arm, shooting him a quick smile with eyes so soft he wanted to get lost in them. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Stark,” she murmured, moving a little closer.

“Why thank you, Miss Potts.”

“You’ll have to forgive me…your giant stuffed rabbit is on backorder.” 

He chuckled when she leaned in just enough to press a quick kiss to his lips. “The joke is on, Miss Potts, because I would love a giant stuffed rabbit, because a giant stuffed rabbit is a wonderful addition to any home. Besides, Peter would love it, too.”

Pepper laughed. “You’re probably right about that.”

Rhodey chose that moment to join them, tugging on his tie and dropping a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Well. You’ve managed to hold on for another year. How does it feel to be old, Tony?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you know when I finally catch up to you, Platypus.” 

“How’s my favorite nephew?”

It was something of a loaded question…after the kidnapping…after the time spent in a cell, bleeding and starving, Peter had been different. Anyone would be, Tony knew from experience. The boy had been quieter. More reserved. But now, almost a month of getting back into a routine and plenty of therapy later, he was starting to see glimpses of his kid again. It had been a hard decision to let Peter out of his sight for the whole day, but Happy had assigned himself as Peter’s personal bodyguard, driving the kid to Ned’s for the afternoon. 

Tony hadn’t said anything about it being his birthday, and he hadn’t been surprised when Peter hadn’t seemed to know. It wasn’t something he held against the kid…Peter had a lot on his mind, from therapy to school work to the new suit they were building for him. Maybe he’d say something about it tomorrow…ask if the kid wanted to have dinner or something. He’d just have to figure out a way to bring it up without making Peter feel bad. 

“He’s…he’s okay,” Tony settled on saying, giving a quick nod to accentuate the point. “Still doing therapy twice a week. He’s at Ned’s today. Figured he wouldn’t want to come to something like this.” 

“Probably not.”

“Why don’t you come up after the gala? Happy texted me to say he got home about an hour ago. He’s probably still up.”

Rhodey smiled, seemingly excited about the idea. “Yeah…I think I will.”

“He’ll be happy to see you.” Tony checked his watch again. “How about we head upstairs now. Things are winding down here…I just want to grab the cake I saved for him.”

His friend nodded and pulled his phone out, sending a text as Tony turned to ask Pepper if she was ready to head upstairs. He’d already given a speech thanking everyone, and the people in charge of the event knew what to do. So, grabbing the slice of cake, Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey left the ballroom and piled into the elevator, making it less than one floor before Pepper was pulling off her heels and flexing her feet with a grimace. Tony pulled out his phone, about to text Peter, then decided maybe he would surprise him instead. Cake and Rhodey were bound to coax a smile from the kid.

As soon as Tony stepped out of the elevator into the dark living room, the lights were switched on, and the sound of party horns nearly made him drop the cake. Hanging from the ceiling was a red and gold banner, with the words “Happy Birthday Dad” shouting at him in capital letters. Red and gold balloons filled the room, including a giant, nearly life-sized, iron man balloon that seemed to be made up of two separate parts tied together. In front of all this was Peter, holding a party horn and smiling shyly at him. Behind the kid stood Happy, leaning against the counter where a much smaller, obviously homemade cake sat with a circle of candles were all lit. 

Tony blinked, glancing back at a grinning Rhodey and Pepper, then back at his kid. 

“Happy birthday, Dad,” Peter told him with that shy smile that made Tony’s heart melt, and the man strode forward, placing the cake on an end table on the way and wrapping Peter in his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier…I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You got me,” Tony told him with a chuckle, squeezing him tightly and smiling when the boy squeezed him back. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

Peter pulled away with a scoff, rolling his eyes in a very teenager-like fashion. Tony never thought he would have been so happy at such a small sign of teenage rebellion. “I’ve read your biography. Of course I know when your birthday was.”

“Oh god…you read that?”

“Twice,” Peter told him, holding up two fingers. 

Tony rolled his own eyes. “Great. You know that biography was unauthorized, right? And that half of it was bullshit?”

“Well, they obviously got your birthday right, so…” 

He snorted, shooting a hand out and ruffling Peter’s already unruly hair, grinning when he found a bit of flour in his curls. “Touche, Spiderling. Now what do you say we sit down and eat our cake? I’m dying to know if you can actually bake.”

Peter gave that same shy, hopeful smile. “I hope you like it.”

As Pepper passed him to grab plates, Tony leaned in to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Buddy, of course I’ll like it. I’d love anything my kid made me.” 

“Alright, alright, you’d better blow out those candles before the whole cake melts!” Rhodey put in, reaching out to pat Peter on the back and nudge Tony with his shoulder. Laughing, Tony tugged Peter along with him. 

“You have to make a wish!” 

The statement hit Tony right in the chest as he tightened his arm around Peter’s shoulders. Just a child. Peter was just a child. And he was the best kid Tony could have ever asked for, despite having never even asked for a kid. Closing his eyes obligingly, Tony took a moment to be grateful as he blew out his candles. 

He didn’t need to make a wish. He had everything he’d ever needed in that room.


	5. “He’d been in there all morning, making phone calls”

**More people asked for a continuation in this little series, and I’m really enjoying writing it, so here’s part 5! This quote is from _The Kite Runner_ by Khaled Hosseini, one of my favorite books of all times.**

**“He’d been in there all morning, making phone calls”**

The fight had been about Spider-Man. 

Peter sat on his bed, hands clenched on his lap, stomach in knots as he stared down at the floor, his backpack discarded by his feet. He was supposed to be doing homework. Usually, he would have been working down in the lab with Tony…with his dad. Just like his intern days, only different now because Tony Stark was his dad and he loved him and everything had been good. Everything had been great! He’d finally stopped having so many nightmares about the kidnapping and they had been working on Peter’s suit until they finished it…and now…

Now he’d ruined everything.

There had been a lot of rules if he was going to be Spider-Man. He had to wear the suit and never mess with any of the protocols there to keep him safe. He had to keep up with his homework and keep his grades up. And finally, the big one, he had to stick to his curfew. On school nights, he was allowed to patrol after school until 5. On Friday nights and weekends, he could go out but he had to tell Tony before he left and he had to be home before nine. It was that last one he’d messed up, crawling through his bedroom window the night before at 10:00 on the dot. In his defense, he’d thought Tony was supposed to be in DC with his Uncle Rhodey. He’d thought that he could get away with staying out just a little late. Just an hour longer.

And Tony had been waiting. Peter had paused halfway through the window, swallowing hard, and then he’d come to stand in front of his bed, watching as his dad leaned back in his desk chair. “I…”

“Take it off,” his dad had ordered, voice flat. Disappointed. Angry. 

“I swear, I just…”

“Take. It. Off.”

“But…”

His dad had slammed a hand down on the desk, making him flinch back. For a moment, the man had seemed to regret it, but then he’d gone on. “Off. Now.”

So Peter had pressed his hand to his chest, letting the suit deflate around him, leaving him in just his boxers, and then he’d yanked off his mask. Tony had stood then, looking at him in a way he’d never looked at him before. “Go get dressed.” And then he’d grabbed the suit off the floor.

“But…what…what are you doing with my suit?”

“I’m getting rid of it.”

“But…hey!” he’d called, making Tony stop in his tracks. “You can’t do that!”

Slowly, so slowly that Peter’s heart immediately started pounding in his ears, Tony had turned around. “Excuse me?”

“You…you can’t take my suit!” Peter had protested, voice weak.

“I can’t? And why is that? Because the way I see, it’s actually my suit. Made in my lab with my materials and my coding. The only reason I agreed to let you try this was because I thought I could trust you…”

“You can!”

“Apparently I can’t. Because I give you this rule, this very important rule, and the minute you think you can get away with it, you decide to break that rule.”

“It was one night! I was barely late!” Peter had cried, ignoring the fact that he’d actually been an hour late. 

“And what happens the next time my back is turned, huh? I mean, what the hell, Peter! You’re an hour late coming home, no call, no text…if I hadn’t been looking at the tracker, I…you could have been hurt!”

“But I’m enhanced! I’m strong! I…”

“You were captured by Hydra a few months ago, Peter! You…you could have died! And I agreed to let you try this because I trusted you! But maybe..maybe that was a mistake.” Tony had shaken his head, pressing his lips together. “If we don’t have trust, then what the hell are we doing here?”

And Peter had felt his stomach drop into his shoes as Tony had slammed the door behind him. 

He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t dared. Instead, he’d changed into sweats and a t-shirt, climbing into bed and sitting against the wall, his face pressed to his knees as the tears had come, sobs shaking his whole body. This was it. He’d messed up, just like when he’d broken stuff in the first house and now…now Tony was going to send him back. He was going to get sent away to a new home and no one wanted teenagers and Tony didn’t want him anymore. His dad didn’t want him anymore! So he’d sat there for hours, clutching the material of his sweat pants in his hands and sobbing, trying to be small and quiet so that maybe, just maybe, his dad would forget he was even there. Peter would give up Spider-Man and being a vigilante if it just meant Tony wouldn’t send him away.

It was almost dawn when he finally brought himself out of a half doze, eyes swollen, throat aching from crying. Should he have packed, he wondered. Tony had gotten him a suitcase, and he still had Ben’s briefcase. But would he be allowed to keep the suitcase? And the clothes Tony had gotten him? Would Tony give him another suitcase? The thought made his chest hurt even more and he had to fight to breathe through the pain of it.

“Friday?” he asked, voice trembling.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Where’s my…where’s Tony?” 

“Boss is in his office.”

“What…” Peter swallowed, wiping a hand over his face. “What’s he doing?”

“He is currently on the phone.”

“When did he go in here?”

“Boss has been in his office since you arrived home.”

So he’d been in there all night. All morning. He’d been in there all morning, making phone calls. What kind of phone calls? Phone calls to his social worker? Phone calls to find another family to take him? Peter clamped a hand over his mouth, trying not to make a noise. He had to be quiet. Had to stop causing problems. Maybe…maybe he could convince Tony to let him stay. Maybe. Maybe Tony would give him another chance.

The knock at his door came only a few moments later, and Peter dropped, placing his head on his pillow, back to the door, blanket pulled up over his head. “Peter?” Tony called, tapping at his door, sounding as tired as Peter felt. “You up?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t make himself speak without sobbing, so he held his breath and stayed still, but instead of giving up, Tony opened the door, stepping into his room and slowly approaching the bed. Gingerly, the man sat on the bed behind him, and Peter couldn’t stop shaking, not even when a hand landed on his shoulder, then squeezed his arm. 

“Pete…hey, look at me.” 

He couldn’t. Instead, he let himself speak through his tears. “Please…please give me another chance.”

Tony sighed, his thumb rubbing up and down his arm. “Kid, I…”

“Please don’t send me back…please…please, Tony, Dad…please!” 

The man beside him went still then, the hand tightening on his arm.

“What?”

“Please!” Peter kept his eyes shut tight, tears and snot soaking his pillow. “Please I won’t…I won’t do it again! I’ll be good! Please!” 

Immediately, Tony seized him by the arm and pulled until Peter was wrapped in his arms, face pressed to his shoulder, Tony’s hand gripping the back of his head. “I am not sending you back. I am not sending you back. Peter…Peter, I am not…I would never. I would never send you away, no matter what. No matter what you do, I will never, ever send you away.” Peter gripped his shirt, the sobs making it hard to breathe, and Tony rocked him, shaking his head and rubbing soothing circles over his back. “I adopted you, Peter. Remember? I adopted you and you are my son. I’m your father. That doesn’t stop. Not ever. You’re my kid and you will always be my kid. Even if we fight and even if you break curfew, forever. Always. I love you so much, Pete.” 

“I love you too. I’m so sorry,” Peter whimpered into his shoulder, and Tony shook his head.

“I know. I know you’re sorry. It’s okay. I forgive you. We can talk about Spider-Man and superheroes and curfews later. But you have to know that I would never, ever send you away. Adoption is for life, Pete. You’re stuck with me.”

When Peter huffed out a relieved laugh, Tony pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I just…when you said it was a mistake…and…and you asked what we were doing…”

“Oh, kiddo…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you, Pete. I didn’t mean adopting you. Not ever. That wasn’t a mistake. I…I should have talked to you. I should have…I’m sorry I screwed up, Pete. I’m so sorry. You scared the shit out of me and I just…I thought about someone being able to get to you again or hurt you and…and I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Peter nodded, the relief taking every bit of his energy. He was so, so tired. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you, Pete. It’s okay.” Tony patted his shoulder, pulling away and looking at him so sadly. Bringing a hand up, he brushed a thumb under Peter’s eye, wiping a tear away. “Did you sleep at all?”

Peter shook his head, and Tony squeezed his arm. “Me either. How about we get some sleep now? We’ve got some time.”

Peter nodded, letting himself be maneuvered under the covers, and Tony lay down beside him, wrapping his arms around him just like those nights he’d woken up with nightmares, pulling the blanket over the both of them. And finally, head resting on Tony’s shoulder, the sound of his father’s heartbeat filling his head, Peter slept. 


	6. “Do you understand what you just read?”

**This quote is from the newest Stephen King book of Short Stories, If It Bleeds, which I am currently reading.**

**“Do you understand what you just read?”**

The sound of a pen clicking pulled Tony from his concentration, and he cut his eyes over to the boy with his back to him, watching for a moment as the kid bounced one leg, his toes pressed against the floor, heel moving up and down in the lab where ACDC played softly in the background. Before taking Peter in, and when the boy wasn’t in the lab, Tony would blast his rock and roll playlist specially curated by Friday who read his moods and played the appropriate classics, but his Spider-Kid had super senses. ‘Dialed to eleven’ was what Peter always said, usually apologetically when he was having a sensory episode. 

The first time it had happened had been after school, a week or two after Peter had come to live with him. Instead of coming down to the lab like he usually did, Peter had gone straight to his room. Tony had been working in his lab when he’d checked the time and realized with a start that it was nearly three. “Fri? Where’s Pete?”

“Peter is currently in his bedroom. He is lying down and appears to be in distress.” 

Distress was nothing new. In fact, Tony had been getting worried about the kid who was obviously so grateful to be living there, but also seemed to be having difficulty sleeping and hadn’t been showing much of an interest in…well…anything. Stil, Tony had jumped to his feet, heading straight for Peter’s bedroom and tapping his knuckles against the door. There had been some kind of noise that Tony had taken for ‘come in’ and so he had, starting to turn the light on, then pausing when he’d caught sight of Peter. The boy had been curled up in a ball under the weighted blanket Tony had bought for him, face hidden, eyes clenched tight. 

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?” Tony had asked softly, pushing the door shut so the light from the hall didn’t come in. Peter had only nodded a little, and then flinched when he’d pressed his hand against the boy’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“Senses. Bad,” Peter had whispered, a tear squeezing out from between his eyelids. 

“Okay…okay buddy,,” Tony had murmured, then he’d turned to the ceiling. “Friday, soundproof his room. Lower the blinds…make it as dark and quiet as you can.” Immediately the AI had done as asked, making it somewhat darker, and Peter had sighed just a little as the soundproofing must have gone into effect. Tony had leaned in, trying to whisper as softly as he could. “Is there anything i can do?”

“My head…hurts,” Peter had finally whispered, and, moving to sit on the bed beside him, Tony had reached out, pressing his thumb into Peter’s temple and massaged as firmly as he could. After a moment, the boy had relaxed a little more, and soon, he’d been asleep. 

Now Tony watched Peter for those same signs he’d come to recognize when it came to a sensory episode. Tense shoulders. Rubbing his head. Bouncing his foot. General irritability. He’d seemed okay when he’d come down an hour ago, and he’d been staring down at his book the whole time. Tony stood, craning his neck to get a better view. Physics. It was close to the end of his junior year…finals were in less than two weeks, and he knew Peter was starting to feel the stress. It seemed insane to Tony that Peter only had one more year of high school…insane that he’d only had Peter for just over a year and that this was his kid…this was his son and he had just gotten him and soon, too soon, Peter would be leaving for college.

Tony shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. When he’d brought this up with Pepper, his fiancee had rolled her eyes and asked if maybe he might be getting ahead of himself…that he still had a full year before Peter would be going anywhere and that maybe he needed to calm down and go to sleep. (This conversation had taken place at 2 in the morning.) 

Moving over to Peter’s side, he peered over his shoulder, something Peter usually put a quick stop to, but now he just stared down at the page, finger still clicking the pen, heel still bouncing, his shoulders tense and practically up to his ears. Tony sighed, then rested his hands on Peter’s shoulders. For a second, the boy went absolutely stiff. Then he looked up at Tony with wide eyes underscored by deep blue bruises that told Tony the kid hadn’t slept in a while.

“Hey, bud. Penny for your thoughts.”

“I don’t think I can do this.” The words were blurted, desperate and afraid, and Peter stared up at him like he was the answer to every problem. Tony squeezed his shoulders, kneading his fingers into the boy’s muscles.

“What can’t you do?”

“Physics. It’s just…we started vectors last week and I…” Peter trailed off, helpless.

“Okay. Do you understand what you just read?” Tony asked, glancing down at the page. It was advanced for high school, but Peter rarely had trouble with the hard sciences. 

He shook his head. “I can’t. I just…I can’t focus.”

“Have you been sleeping?” Peter’s silence was answer enough, and Tony tugged him upright by his arm. “Come on.”

“But…I have to finish….this is due tomorrow!”

“You will. Trust me, okay?” 

Peter did. Of course he did. Peter always trusted him. So Tony led him over to the sofa, gesturing for Friday to lower the music, then sat him down on the sofa. “I want you to sleep. Just for an hour or two. I’ll wake you. And then we’ll have some dinner and we can look at your homework together. Okay?”

The kid hesitated, glancing past Tony at his textbook, then nodded, letting the man easy him down onto the cushion. Grabbing the old blanket he kept thrown over the back, he draped it over Peter, tucking him in like he was a little kid. And to Tony, he was. Looking down at the already dozing boy, Tony thought, he always would be. Stroking his fingers through Peter’s hair for a moment, he patted his arm, then stood, moving quietly over to his workstation once more.

After an hour and a half, Tony ordered dinner from Peter’s favorite Thai place on his tablet, glancing over to find the boy still sound asleep. Then he opened Peter’s textbook to the beginning of the chapter, skimmed it for a refresher, and took a look at the problems Peter was struggling with. Opening Peter’s notebook to a new page, he left the kid’s workstation ready to go, then waited for the food to arrive. 

Once dinner had arrived and had been placed on the kitchen counter by an assistant, Tony moved over to Peter’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently. Peter moaned in irritation, rolling over as much as he could to hide his face, and Tony chuckled. “Up and at ‘em, Spiderling. Dinner’s waiting.”

That got a reaction, and one of the boy’s eyes popped open. “Dinner?”

“Thai. All hot and ready to eat.” Peter debated for a moment and Tony squeezed his shoulder, surprised at his own apparently endless patience with this boy he loved so much. He’d never thought of himself as a father, and sometimes it hit him how much he loved it. “Come on, Pete. Dinner, then homework, then you pick a movie for movie night.”

“Movie night’s on Friday,” Peter reminded him, rubbing his eyes with a fist and stretching so that his feet poked out from under the blanket. 

“This week is a special two-movie-night week.” 

The kid rolled his eyes, but Tony saw the smile he was trying to hide. Nodding in agreement, Peter reached out a hand and Tony tugged him to his feet. 

Later, as they sat together on the sofa and watched Monsters Inc Peter leaned his head against Tony’s arm, an empty bowl of popcorn forgotten on the coffee table, shifting to find a comfortable spot, and Tony lifted his arm and wrapped it around Peter’s shoulders. 

“Dad?” 

It wasn’t all that often that Peter used the name. Sometimes he’d say ‘Tony,’ and it had been a hard transition from ‘Mr. Stark.’ More and more often, though, Peter would call him ‘dad’ and it made Tony’s chest ache in a pleasantly warm way every time. “Yeah, buddy?”

“Thanks. For helping.”

“Anytime, kiddo. You can ask me for help anytime.” 

There was another long pause, and then, in a voice that told Tony that his boy was nearly asleep, Peter murmured, “I love you.”

Tony squeezed him, turning to press a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you too, honey.”


	7. “The sun had long set, but there was an extra darkness in this car from the tinted windows.”

**This quote is from The Vanishing Stair by Maureen Johnson**

**“The sun had long set, but there was an extra darkness in this car from the tinted windows.”**

Tony gripped the steering wheel too tightly, leg bouncing as he fought the urge to floor it instead of waiting for this red light. One finger tapped against the wheel, and the car behind him edged forward, and part of him wanted to lose it…to get out of the car and asked what their fucking hurry was. Were they also on their way to the hospital? Did they also get a call in the middle of the night that their kid had been fucking shot? Was it something pressing that made this douchebag think that nudging his bumper would make him go any faster? 

Twelve hours ago, he’d been helping Peter with his homework. Just that morning, he’d watched the kid devour an entire plate of waffles before grabbing his backpack, quickly throwing out a reminder that he was staying the night at Ned’s and Tony had nodded, waving as the boy had run out the door to catch the bus. And then, in the middle of the night, he’d gotten a call from Ned Leeds, practically in tears.

Tony had been asleep when his phone had rang, jerking both him and Pepper awake. She had groaned, rolling over and hiding her face in her pillow, and Tony had done the same, ready to ignore it, but then he’d remembered that Peter was at Ned’s and might need him. Groping blindly in the dark, he had finally managed to find his phone, nearly knocking the thing on the floor. Getting his fingers around it, he’d squinted at the too-bright screen, frowning at Ned’s name. Stabbing at the green button, he’d prayed that Ned had just hit his name by accident. Or that it was a prank. Please, he’d thought, his groggy brain struggling to comprehend the fact that it was only one in the morning. Please let it be a prank. Let the kids be pulling some kind of out-of-character joke on him. Anything but the only real reason that his kid’s best friend would be calling him at one in the morning.

When he’d answered, Ned had been sobbing, and immediately Tony’s heart had dropped into his feet. “Ned? What’s wrong, kiddo?” 

“Mr. Stark…it…I’m so sorry. It was my fault, I’m so sorry!”

Tony had closed his eyes, then sat up, throwing the covers off and hurrying to his closet to grab the first outfit he could find. Behind him, Pepper had sat up as well, and he’d felt her eyes on him, but he’d been unable to turn. To face her. “What, Ned? What was your fault? What’s going on?”

“We…were just walking…walking to the corner store…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!”

Shoving aside the question of why they’d been on their way to a corner store at one in the morning, Tony had yanked a shirt over his head, grabbing a pair of sweatpants as he struggled to do everything with his phone sandwiched between his cheek and his shoulder. “What happened? Where are you?”

“Queens Memorial Hospital…they brought us here…I’m so sorry! Mr. Stark I swear I didn’t…I didn’t think…”

“Ned, you have to tell me what happened! What happened to Peter?”

The light turned green and Tony hit the accelerator, hands shaking. He wasn’t going to be mad at Ned. He couldn’t be mad at Ned. Ned was Peter’s best friend in the whole world. It hadn’t been his fault. They’d been going to the corner store for snacks and mountain dew. They’d snuck out while his parents were sleeping, and they’d gone to the corner store for more candy because they’d been watching scary movies and they’d run out.

And on the way, Peter had heard someone yelling for help.

It was so dark. The sun had long set, but there was an extra darkness in this car from the tinted windows, and Tony took deep, painful breaths as he sped along the highway, the only light the brief flashes of it as he drove through the pools of it under the street lamps. Ned hadn’t been able to tell him anything about Peter’s condition, only that the EMTs had rolled him away as soon as they’d gotten to the hospital, and that Ned was in the waiting room. He hadn’t asked if Ned had called his parents…didn’t really care.

All he cared about was Peter. All he cared about was the boy who had been his intern and was now his son. His boy. Some man had stabbed his boy.

He’d called Helen first thing as he’d raced to the elevator, jumping into the first car he saw in the garage. She’d promised to meet him at the hospital, and he’d sped onto the streets, driving as quickly as he dared, but not willing to risk being pulled over. He had to get to Peter. He couldn’t let anything stop him from getting to Peter. As he drove, his mind flashed back to the suit…the one he’d taken away after the boy had been late. The one that Peter never mentioned, even though Tony knew he was dying to. But he was afraid, Tony knew. Afraid of bringing it up. Afraid of being sent away no matter how many times Tony swore to him that that would never happen. He couldn’t even imagine letting someone take his boy. Couldn’t imagine giving his son up now that he had him. And the truth hit Tony like a pound of bricks as he pulled into the hospital parking garage, taking a corner so fast that the car nearly went up on two wheels. 

Peter was going to be a superhero, with or without the suit. If he ever saw someone in danger, he was going to help them. And if he’d had his suit, Tony would have been alerted sooner. 

He spotted Ned as soon as he stepped into the waiting room, coming to a halt so quickly his shoes squeaked on the floor. A few people looked up, eyes narrowing in confusion as they seemed to try and figure out if he was really the Tony Stark, but Tony didn’t care. He had eyes only for the boy sitting alone in the hospital seat, the front of his hoodie covered in blood, his eyes red-rimmed as he refused to meet Tony’s eyes. 

“Ned,” Tony murmured, hurrying to the kid’s side.

“Mr. Stark…I’m so sorry…”

He shook his head, dropping into the chair beside Ned and wrapping his arms around him. Ned fell apart almost instantly, his sobs shaking the both of them, and Tony held him as tightly as he could, just like he held Peter. 

“He…he told me to stay…and he ran into the alley! Then…then the guy was running off! And Peter…he was…he was laying there…trying to get up…” Tony closed his eyes, not wanting to hear it but also needing to. Needing to know what exactly had happened. “He was crying. And I called 911 and…and they came in an ambulance and he was bleeding so much. I tried to stop the bleeding…he stopped him from hurting that girl…she ran away.”

“Good. I’m glad she got away,” Tony whispered, voice hoarse.

“He said…said he didn’t want to die like Ben.”

Like Ben. Dead in an alley like Ben. The thought made Tony’s stomach lurch and he swallowed hard, pressing his teeth together. He couldn’t throw up. Not now. He had to keep it together. After a moment, he pulled away, putting a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Have you called your parents?”

Ned shook his head. “They were in bed. I know we weren’t supposed to go out…”

“You’d better call them. I’m going to see if I can get any information on Peter. I have one of my doctors on the way.”

“I didn’t know, with his…you know…if I should have called you first…”

“No, you did the right thing, Ned. You did good. I”ll take care of the rest, okay?”

And, leaving Ned to make his phone call, Tony went over to the front desk and told them who he was.

Tony wasn’t allowed to see Peter for another hour and a half, in which time, Pepper and Ned’s mother both arrived, camping out with them in the waiting room. Happy showed up too, although Tony wasn’t sure who had called him. Pepper slipped her hand into his, resting her head on his shoulder, and Ned’s mom, who he’d met a few times, gripped her son in her arms, lips trembling as she held him. They all sat in relative silence except for Happy who seemed to be standing guard, leaving about an hour in and returning with drinks for everyone.

And then they called Tony’s name. Helen had already showed up, giving him a quick nod before hurrying to the front desk and speaking to the receptionist before being ushered back. Now she stood by the double doors, hands collapsed as she waited for him, the others all trailing behind. “How is he?” Tony demanded in a whisper. “Is he…is he going to…”

“He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.” She glanced past him at the others before going on. “Tony, why don’t you come with me? He can only have one visitor, immediate family right now, so you might all want to go home. I want to have him transferred to the medbay by tomorrow afternoon at the latest so you can visit him there.”

Once Tony had convinced everyone to go home, as he certainly wouldn’t be returning home, he kissed Pepper goodbye and promised Ned that he could come over as soon as Peter was up for visitors. Then he followed Helen through the double doors. “I already spoke to every doctor that saw him…all of the NDA’s have been signed, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Tony nodded, but he couldn’t make him care about anything but Peter. “We have him on oxygen and I had to bring the painkillers from the tower. He probably won’t wake up for a while.”

“But he’s going to be okay?”

“He will,” she assured him, pausing outside of a room with a door firmly shut. “He’s doing to be okay. I’ll try to get another bed for you since I assume you’re staying.”

“I’m staying.”

She left him as soon as he stepped into Peter’s room, pausing in his tracks. His boy was in a hospital bed, an oxygen mask pressed to his face, IVs in his arms. Someone had cut his shirt away, and Tony could see bandages wrapped around his stomach. Tony rested his hand on the doorjamb and took a deep breath. He was okay. Peter was going to be okay. So, forcing himself forward, he pulled a chair up to the side of the boy’s bed and reached out, needed to have some kind of contact. Some kind of touch. Not wanting to disturb him or dislodge the needed in his arm, he slipped his hand into Peter’s, squeezing gently.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, closing his eyes and wiping brusquely at his eyes, then giving up when the tears continued to fall. “You can’t do this…you can’t do this to me.” Dropping his head forward, he placed his forehead against Peter’s hand. “Oh, kiddo…” 

When Peter finally woke, hours after Helen had brought him a tiny cot to sleep in that he ignored, just before dawn, Tony was still awake. Waiting. Still clutching his hand. The boy’s hand squeezed his, and then his eyes fluttered open. Tony glanced down at his watch, blinking and trying to focus on the numbers before looking up at Peter, squeezing his hand. It was nearly 5am, and Peter stared at the ceiling for a moment, then turned his head to stare at Tony, eyes narrow and confused. “Dad?”

“Right here, bud.” Tony rubbed his thumb over the back of Peter’s knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

Winching, Peter placed his free hand on his stomach, clenching his teeth for a moment. “He stabbed me.”

Tony nodded, gripping his hand. “He did. The police were able to track him down…you saved that girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, dropping his eyes. “I didn’t even…I didn’t have the suit or anything. But..she needed help.”

“I know.” 

“We weren’t supposed to leave Ned’s apartment…”

“I know.”

“Tony…Dad, I’m…”

“No more apologies, Pete,” Tony urged, squeezing his hand. “I…I think we need to update your suit when you get out of here.”

Peter’s head jerked up, jaw dropping. “What?”

“You’re going to help people, Pete. I can’t stop you from doing that. And…and I only tried to because I was terrified of something like this happening. And it happened anyway.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Pete…you’re such a good kid. You’re going to be such a good man. And…and I know that you want to help people. So…so that’s what I’m going to help you do. Okay? Once you’re better. And once Helen clears you.” 

The boy just blinked at him, obviously still kind of high on the pain meds, and Tony smiled, brushing his hair back and then leaning forward, pressing his lips to his forehead. “Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m right here, buddy. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be right here.”

Peter nodded, eyes already closing again, but his hand continued to grip Tony’s until he was fully asleep. 

**Thank you for reading!**


	8. “Who the hell am I to do this?”

**“Who the hell am I to do this?” from Choose Wonder Over Worry by Amber Rae, one of the books I’m currently reading.**

It had been a long night.

Peter glanced at his watch, wincing when the numbers swam before his eyes, and it took him a moment to focus for long enough to read them. 4:29 am. Groaning, he closed his eyes and dropped his wrist, starting to sit up and then dropping back down into his bed. Too hot. He was too hot. Head pounding, he tried again to sit up. He just wanted some water...just wanted something to drink, but the room swam and he didn’t want to wake Tony, so he gave up, arms giving out, panting at even that tiny bit of exertion. 

He had only been sick twice since the spider bite, and both times, he’d been living with Tony.

He’d been scared the first time. Sure that Tony would be upset at the inconvenience...sure that Mr. Stark hadn’t signed up to take care of a sick kid. He’d only been living with the man for a few months...Hydra hadn’t come after them yet...he hadn’t even brought up his webshooters or his idea of becoming a vigilante again yet. On that Wednesday after school, he’d dragged himself to the tower, not sure if he was even going to make it, and then he’d managed to get all the way to the sofa before his legs had given out.

He’d been so hot. So dizzy. All day, he’d struggled to concentrate in class and he was sure that his notes would be incomprehensible. Still, he’d stayed, not daring to ask them to call his guardian to pick him up from school. No, he’d thought, head sinking into the pillow, not guardian. Father. It was a title he never used, choosing instead to call the man Mr. Stark, only switching to Tony when he reminded him. ‘Dad’ would come later. But, he’d reminded himself, reaching for a blanket draped over the back of the sofa and failing when his arm refused to cooperate, Tony was his dad now. He’d adopted him. So...so why was it so hard?

Rhodey had been the one to find him there on the sofa, hesitating on his way to the kitchen and then moving over to Peter’s side. “Hey, Pete. How was school, kiddo?”

Peter had wanted to answer. Had opened his mouth to answer. But words had failed him, so instead he’d closed his eyes and hoped that Rhodey would just think he was tired. No such luck. The man had reached out a hand, pressing the back of it to Peter’s forehead, then jumped a little at the head he must have felt there. 

“Pete? Hey, look at me,” he’d ordered, tapping the side of his face and leaning in closer. Peter had struggled to do as asked. “You’re really hot, kiddo. Why don’t we get you to bed?”

“Bed?”

“Yeah, Pete. Let’s get you to bed. Friday? Can you call Tony?”

Peter had shaken his head as Rhodey had gotten an arm under him, helping him sit up. “M’fine. Don’t bug...Mr. Stark...he…”

“Tony won’t be mad, Peter. He needs to know if you’re sick. Come on.” He’d gotten him to his feet, supporting most of his weight and walking him slowly to his bedroom where his unmade bed waited for him. Pulling the blankets back, Rhodey had eased him down onto the bed, and that’s the last thing Peter remembered until the voices had come...Rhodey’s and Tony’s. 

“His school didn’t call...do...do you think he’s been sick all day?”

“I don’t know, Tones. Do you have anything that will work on him?”

“I’ve got Helen working on it. She said it shouldn’t take too long. I didn’t even know he could get sick...with...you know…” Tony had sounded upset, and Peter had felt a pang of guilt. He was the reason Mr. Stark was upset. It was his fault. “I just...why didn’t he tell me?”

“He didn’t want to bother you.”

“Shit...Rhodey...why? I’m...I mean...I adopted him! He has to know that I...that I care about him! And…” Tony had sighed, breaking off and sitting on the bed beside Peter, a hand reaching out and resting on his hair. Too tired to force his eyes open, Peter had just laid there, soaking in the comfort. “Who the hell am I to do this, Rhodey? I mean...if I can’t even get him to come to me when he’s sick…”

“Tony.” Rhodey’s voice had been firm. A warning. “That boy loves you. And you’re doing a great job with him. It’s just going to take him a while...hell, you told me yourself that he was in three different foster homes. It’s only been a few months, and overall, I'd say he’s doing pretty good.”

Tony had brushed Peter’s hair back, a thumb rubbing circles on his temple and chasing away the pounding headache. Peter had sighed in relief, praying that Tony just kept doing that. And he had. “He is. He’s...he’s such a good kid, Rhodey.”

“I know. He’s a great kid. And you’re a great dad. So don’t start doubting yourself just because he gets the flu.”

Now Peter stared at the ceiling, remembering how upset Tony had been before...how bad his dad had felt when he’d tried to hide from him how sick he’d really been, and he felt another pang of guilt. He was doing it again. He’d been living with Tony for two years now. He’d been going out as Spider-Man for almost a month now, and every evening his dad would ask him how it had gone. Would wince at the bruises and scrapes, knowing they would heal on their own but insisting on band-aids anyway. Would make him hot chocolate in the evenings and sit with him on the sofa and listen to his stories about helping old ladies with their groceries and giving tourists directions.

Tony was his dad. He’d proven that over and over. He was there when Peter was hurt and he was there when Peter had nightmares. He helped him with homework and worked with him in the lab and just last week, when Peter’s team had won their decathlon meet, he’d gotten that dopey dad-smile on his face. Tony loved him. 

So why was it so hard to call for him? To tell him that he was sick and needed water and medicine but that the room was spinning and he felt like he was dying but in a regular flu way and not a ‘i’ve been stabbed’ way? 

Was he really still afraid that his dad would send him away?

Steeling himself, Peter closed his eyes, then forced the words out through the lump in his throat. “Friday? Can you get my dad?”

“Of course, Peter. I’ll notify him that you need assistance.” 

Peter nodded, taking deep breaths and reminding himself again and again that this was ridiculous. That his dad loved him. That this was his home. That his father wasn’t going to send him into foster care because he was sick.

Less than five minutes later, a hand came to rest on his forehead and Peter jumped out of his skin, realizing he must have dozed off. “Huh?”

“Hey, buddy. Friday said you asked for me.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Pete. I’m here. How are you feeling?”

“Dad...I don’t feel good.”

“Yeah? Here,” He slipped an arm behind Peter’s shoulders and helped him sit up, and then there was a glass of water pressed to his lips. He took a long drink and sighed in relief, then felt the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“You won’t send me away, right?” 

For a long moment, there was silence, and then his dad was sitting beside him, pulling him close and pressing his lips to Peter’s hair. “No...no, honey, I won’t send you away.”

“I think I’m sick.”

“I do too.” He let Peter rest against his chest, patting his back. “I’m going to run down to the medbay and get your medicine, okay?”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“I love you.”

Tony squeezed him hard, and there was a smile in his voice when he answered. “I love you too, kiddo. So much. Now I’m going to get your medicine and then you can get some sleep. Okay?”

“Can I stay home from school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think you’d better.”

When Tony came back with his medicine, Peter swallowed the pills and dropped back onto his pillow as Tony ran his fingers through his hair, slowly drifting off to sleep and dreaming about swinging through the city. About jumping off of buildings and feeling the wind in his hair and then, before he could get to the place he was trying to swing to, there was a hand on his cheek. “Buddy, you with me?”

Peter groaned, blinking a few times and rubbing a hand over his face. “Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Your fever’s still pretty high. Here.” 

The straw held to his mouth took him a moment to figure out, but once he finally did, he sucked down the water and swallowed the pills his dad gave him. “Why ‘m I sick?”

“I don’t know. Helen said the flu’s going around. Was anyone at school sick?” his dad asked, sitting on the bed beside him and putting the glass of water on the bedside table. 

“Flash,” Peter told him with a grimace. “But I never get close to him.”

Tony chuckled. “Maybe he sneezed on your locker.”

“Ew.” Peter had to laugh, leaning into the hand on his hair. “Thought you had meetings today?”

“Pepper’s covering for me. I’d rather be here anyway.”

“What if you get sick?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take care of me,” Tony reasoned, scratching gentle circles on his hair. 

“M glad you're my dad,” Peter murmured, lulled nearly back to sleep.

Above him, Tony shifted a little so that he was holding Peter more closely, his fingers still in his hair. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”


	9. “He has nothing to do with your case.”

**“He has nothing to do with your case.” From Small Great Things by Jodi Piccoul, a book my coworkers keep telling me to read that I haven’t read yet.**

Peter sat cross-legged on his bed, trying to force his eyes to focus on the book he was holding. He’d stayed up too late the night before, he knew, and he had to have this book read in two days...and he hadn’t even started. Groaning as he rubbed his finst into his eyes, he squinted, then widened them, trying to get the blurriness to go away. It was a week into his senior year and already he felt like he was falling behind...and he was exhausted. Not that he wanted to tell his dad that because he was sure that his dad would insist he take a break from patrolling. He could just hear Tony telling him that he needed to sleep more and that it was dangerous to go patrolling when he was sleep deprived and…

He could hear his dad. Frowning, Peter put his book down, yawning and turning to drape his legs over the side of the bed. His dad’s voice came from another room, louder than was usual for early on a Saturday morning, and, knowing that he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, Peter stood and moved quietly over to his door, placing a hand on the doorknob and pushing down gently, opening it without a sound.

“No, he’s not going to...for God’s sake, Steve, he has nothing to do with your case!” There was a pause and Peter closed his eyes as if that would help him hear better. “No, he’s not even the secretary of defense anymore! You really think I would have you come here if…” 

Peter didn’t get involved in his dad’s business with the Avengers. He knew that he and Rhodey still sometimes went on official sanctioned Avengers missions, and that around the time Peter had first gotten an internship, the Avengers had all fallen out, and that some of them had gone into hiding over the Accords. He knew that his dad had made sure they were amended, and that by the time he was going out as Spider-Man, he didn’t have to worry about them. But he also knew that some of the Avengers, including Steve Rogers, were still in hiding.

But the secretary of defense was no longer Ross, and although Peter didn’t know who the new one was, he figured that was significant in some way. 

Peter grabbed his phone, keeping an ear on his dad’s conversation as he looked up ‘Avengers’ and ‘Accords’ on Google. The top result was a breaking news story. The Avengers had been pardoned. Gripping the phone, Peter sat back down on his bed, book forgotten for the moment. They’d been pardoned. So...did that mean...would they be coming back? Living in the tower? Would he be meeting the Avengers? He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his dad’s works as he spoke softly to Steve Rogers, the man who, according to what Peter had been able to piece together, had abandoned Tony...had betrayed him. There had been a fight in Germany and then the next time Peter had seen the man for his internship, his dad, referred to then as ‘Mr. Stark’ had been quieter than usual. Withdrawn. Friendly but sad in a way that Peter hadn’t been able to put a finger on...but Peter hadn’t tried to talk to him. Hadn’t asked anything. It hadn’t seemed like his place and besides, he’d just learned that he’d be moving to a new foster home. 

So he’d had his own problems.

It wasn’t long before his dad hung up the phone and part of Peter wanted to go to him. Comfort him. Ask if he was okay. But he also knew that he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, and that part of him worried that his dad would be angry. So instead he put his phone back on his nightstand and, as soon as he heard Tony’s approaching footsteps, he grabbed the book and tried to look natural.

The soft knock on his door came a few seconds later, and he glanced up from the book to call out a ‘come in’ and then went back to trying to look busy. His dad stepped into the room, an eyebrow lifting at the sight of the novel in his hands. “A little light reading on a Saturday morning?”

“I have to have it read by Monday,” Peter told him ruefully, putting the book down on the bed beside him. 

“Does that mean you don’t have time for breakfast,” he asked with a smile that Peter immediately returned.

“No, I have time!”

“Good,” Tony chuckled, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go to that diner you like.”

If his dad was offering to take him to a diner, then he wanted to have a conversation. And Peter had an idea of what that conversation would be about. Still, he got dressed and ran a comb through his hair, then the two of them headed for the garage. Tony held out the keys to Peter, jangling them a little. “You want to drive?” Peter stared at them, wide-eyed, and Tony grinned, patting him on the shoulder and gently placing them into Peter’s hands. “You have your permit. There’s probably not much traffic right now...well, relatively. And it’s only a few miles away. What do you say?”

Driving hadn’t been something Peter had taken much of an interest in, although his dad was forever trying to get him to. Peter suspected this might have something to do with a planned graduation gift, but hadn’t asked any questions. Instead, he’d gone with his dad to parking lots a few times and they’d driven in circles to get Peter comfortable behind the wheel. “But...this is your nice car.”

Tony snorted. “They’re all my nice car, Pete. I only have nice cars.”

It took a little more coaxing, but Peter climbed into the driver’s seat of Tony’s black Audi and then spent the next fifteen minutes concentrating with everything he had, hands stuck firmly to the wheel while Tony watched in bemusement and giving the occasional piece of advice.

They had successfully made it to the restaurant and were seating in a booth in the back before his dad finally broached the topic. “Hey, bud...there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Peter blinked, glancing down at his menu then trying for a smile. “Am I in trouble?”

Tony snorted. “Not to my knowledge. Then again, how late did you stay up last night?”

“Not...too late,” Peter murmured, coloring, and his dad grinned.

“Not in trouble. Although you should go to bed earlier. No, I wanted to talk about the Avengers.”

“Are you finally letting Spider-Man join them?”

“No.” Tony shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, you’re better off without them, bud. But, uh...I do think you’re going to be meeting them. Just...not as Spider-Man.”

“I saw the news,” Peter told him, lowering his eyes. “They were pardoned?”

“We’re working on it, yeah.” Tony nodded. “So, before all this, and before you moved in, the Avengers all lived at the tower, at least part time. And now…”

“Now they’re moving back in?”

“Maybe,” his father stressed, holding up a hand, then pausing their conversation when the waitress approached to take their orders. He continued once she was gone. “We haven’t ironed out all the details…”

“If anyone can iron out the details, it’s you,” Peter put in with a grin, and his dad sighed, a reluctant smile turning the corners of his mouth. “You’re the best at Ironing...some people even call you the Iron Man.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” his dad asked, reaching out and ruffling his hair. Peter laughed, swiping the hand away. “So what do you think? About meeting them?”

Peter shrugged, taking a long drink of his water. “I don’t know. If you want me too…”

“They’ll want to know how I suddenly acquired a kid.”

“You going to tell them I’m your long lost love child?” Peter asked, lifting an eyebrow, and Tony chuckled, the two of them pausing once more when plates of pancakes were sat before them, along with bacon and eggs and sausage. When the waitress was gone, his dad answered him.

“As much as Rhodey would probably enjoy that, no. I was thinking more along the lines of something close to the truth. Minus the whole ‘spider’ thing, if that’s okay.” Peter was quiet and Tony reached out, tapping the back of his hand. “What’s wrong, Pete?”

“Nothing.”

“You see, I don’t believe you, because…”

“It’s just…” Peter broke in, the words spilling out in a whisper. “They were your family, you know? And then...then they all turned their backs on you and…” He looked up, feeling kind of dumb, but his father’s face was soft. “It just...that sucked, that they would do that to you.”

Tony reached out then, taking his hand and squeezing. “It did suck,” he admitted with a smile. “And they were like my family. But now…” he shrugged a little, one palm up. “Now I have a real family. I’ve got Pepper and Rhodey...and I’ve got you. I’ve got the best kid in the world, Peter. The best family I could ever ask for. So what the hell do I care about a fight with Captain America?”

Peter had to smile, sure his ears were red, but his father just squeezed his hand again. “Really?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”


	10. “It’s an awkward situation, and I’m so sorry to be putting you into it.”

Peter groaned when his alarm went off, rolling over and searching for his phone with his eyes still shut tight. The night before, he and Ned had stayed up until almost two in the morning texting, and as he stared at the screen of his phone letting him know it was eight am, he reasoned that there was no real need for him to get up just yet. Something nagged at him, though, and he found himself checking his phone one more time, double checking that it was really Saturday…that he wasn’t late for school. But no…he wasn’t late for school. He had some homework, but nothing too bad. No plans with Ned…nothing with MJ. Nothing with his dad…

That was his last thought before he drifted back to sleep.

He woke with a jerk and he blinked at the ceiling and glanced at the window, staring as the sun streamed in through the curtains. “Friday?”

“Yes, Peter?” 

He tried to remember if he’d had a nightmare…or any kind of dream. What had woken him up? “What time is it?”

“It is nearly noon.”

He swore under his breath and wiped a hand over his face. “Why didn’t Dad wake me up?”

“Your father is currently speaking to Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson in the living room.”

That’s what he’d forgotten. It was Saturday. Steve and Sam were coming on Saturday! He sat up, throwing the blankets off, then blinked hard when his head spun. He’d gone too long without eating. Bringing a hand up to his head, he slumped forward and took deep breaths. “Peter, would you like me to get your father?”

“No…no, I’m good,” he assured the AI as he grabbed his phone and checked it for messages. Nothing. His dad had mentioned the week before, when the two of them had been driving back to the tower, Peter driving just a little too slowly and too cautiously, that he was inviting Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson to the tower the next weekend…that they would be trying to work through the Accords and figure out a solution. The new Secretary of Defense would also be contacting them, but Peter didn’t know when. Was that today too? He’d stayed up too late and now he was starving and his head was spinning…

Pushing himself to his feet, Peter grabbed the wall, using it to hold himself up. Get dressed, get food, then maybe talk to his dad. That was the plan. So he grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them on, then swapped out the white t-shirt he’d fallen asleep in for one with the periodic table on it, then, taking a moment to take a breath and try to clear his head, he left his bedroom in search of something for breakfast. Or…lunch. Whichever. 

There were soft voices coming from the living room…soft, almost angry voices, and he paused in the hallway, knowing he shouldn’t be eavesdropping but doing it anyway. “You’re not bringing him here.”

“Tony…Shuri is working with him in Wakanda. The brainwashing is…”

“No.”

“Tony! She’s fixed it! He’s…he’s him again…”

“Look, if you want to visit, I’ll pay for him to stay at a hotel and the two of you can relive the good old days but…”

“He could be a valuable asset to this team!”

“He…” Peter was silent as his dad cut himself off. “He’s not staying here. Not with my…not here.”

With the world starting to spin around him once more, Peter realized he couldn’t eavesdrop much more…unless he wanted to fall over and stay there. So he stepped forward and hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the living room, wanting to slip past them to the kitchen but worrying that might be rude. 

“Tony, if you won’t even try to work with…” Sam Wilson started, but his dad’s eyes flashed over to him and he stood, making Sam go silent as the three man all turned to look at him. The two rogue Avengers…or, well…ex-rogue Avengers, looked stunned as they watched Tony approach him. 

“Pete? Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah…um…I was just going to get something to eat,” Peter explained when his dad put his hand on his shoulder. 

“You feel okay? You look kind of pale.”

“Waited too long to eat,” Peter admitted, glancing over at Steve and Sam where they sat on one of the sofas in their living room. Were they moving in now? Were they going to be living there with them? In the tower? 

“Come on. Let’s get you a protein bar,” Tony murmured, leading him into the kitchen. “Be right back,” he called to the two men on the sofa, then pushed Peter to sit at the table. Less than a minute later, a protein bar was sitting on the table in front of him, and Peter ripped it open, devouring it in three bties. “Geez, Pete. Here.” He handed him another one and Peter scarfed that one down too, glad when his head finally stopped spinning. “I’ll go ahead and order lunch. What do you want?”

“Thai?”

“Fine. Friday, get our usual, and order something for Rogers and Wilson too.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Peter glanced at the door to the living room, then back at his father who moved to rest a hand on his hair, ruffing it gently. “How long did you stay up texting Ned?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tony snorted. “You two still fighting about colleges?”

“We aren’t fighting,” Peter muttered and Tony chuckled.

“Sure.”

“It’s just…he acts like MIT is the only good school…”

“It is.”

Peter ignored him. “When there are schools in New York that are fine.”

His dad was silent and Peter stared down at the granola bar wrapper. For a moment, the kitchen was quiet, and Peter wondered if they were finally going to have this conversation with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson in the other room. Could they hear them? Tony sat down at the table, reaching out and patting his hand. Waiting. Tony had gotten pretty good at waiting since Peter had come to live with him.

“It’s just…” Peter shrugged. “I just…I finally have…a family again. And…and I’m not ready…”

Tony squeezed his hand when he trailed off, swallowing hard and sniffing, trying not to let any tears escape. Not now. “You’re not ready to leave it behind yet?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Hey, Pete…that’s okay,” his dad murmured. “That’s fine.”

“I just…I know you went there and I don’t…I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You couldn’t,” Tony told him without hesitation, shaking his head. “Not ever. Hey, I know that you’re going to be amazing, no matter where you go to college. Or if you take some time off. I’m proud of you, no matter what you decide to do.”

Swallowing hard, Peter ran the back of his hand over his eyes and smiled. Leaning over, Tony pulled him into a tight hug, then pressed a kiss to his temple. Peter leaned into it, taking a deep breath and feeling his shoulders relax for the first time in a while. The college conversations with Ned had been going on for a while, and more and more he’d felt the anxiety that went with planning college visits and applying to schools. But he hadn’t felt any pressure from Tony…not yet. Still, he’d been waiting. Sure that Tony would push for him to go to MIT where he’d attended. But MIT was hours away. Peter finally had a home. He didn’t want to move away from it yet. Not when it would mean leaving his father…the last family he had left

“Alright. Now that we’ve got that taken care of, why don’t we talk about the two elephants in the other room.”

Peter snorted. “Is that what we’re calling them?”

“Not to their faces.” Tony grinned, ruffling his hair. 

“I uh…heard a little bit,” Peter admitted, ears heating up. “I was just curious…” He shrugged when Tony lifted an eyebrow. “You were saying that someone couldn’t move back in.”

Tony sighed, nodding. “This is…” He sighed. “It’s an awkward situation, and I’m so sorry to be putting you into it.”

“It’s fine,” Peter hurried to assure him. “It’s just…I didn’t know if they would be moving back or…”

“We were talking about Barnes. Bucky Barnes.”

“Oh. The Winter Soldier? He, uh…he was the reason you guys…”

“Broke up?” Tony asked with a quirked eyebrow and a half smile. “Yeah.” He was quiet, then he rubbed a hand over his face. “There’s a lot we haven’t talked about when it comes to the Avengers. And we will…I promise. It’s just…I don’t want Barnes living here. Not with you here. Not…not in our home.”

Peter nodded. “Okay.” Tony just stared at him, seeming conflicted. “I mean…you must have your reasons.”

Tony gave a half smile. “I do.” Then he squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Alright, I can practically feel their curiosity from here. You ready to meet the Avengers? Or…well, two of them?”

He nodded again, feeling excitement and worry swirl together in his chest. “Yeah…okay. Sounds good.” 

The two stood, Tony throwing his arm around his shoulder, and Peter couldn’t help but feel like his whole life was about to change in a dramatic way…and not just because he would soon be choosing a college. Something had led to the Avengers and his father’s fight…something big. And Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to really trust the people who had betrayed the man who had taken him in…had adopted him and had become his father. But if Tony was willing to try…then he would too.


	11.  “I think he might be teething.”

**This one is from “I think he might be teething.” from _What You Wish For_ by Katherine Center. **

Peter clamped a hand over his eyes, praying that if he just didn’t see it, it wouldn’t be real. Because this...this couldn’t be real. This was nothing short of a disaster and Peter had no idea how to fix it. How to keep Tony from finding out, because Tony was not going to be happy. Not to mention Pepper. Just the thought of Pepper’s reaction made Peter want to cry. She was going to be so mad!

Taking a deep breath and lowering his hand, Peter winced. The scene in front of him hadn’t changed. The living room was a wreck. He’d only gone out for an hour to get the stuff he’d need and apparently an hour had been all Oreo had needed. (Okay, so Oreo wasn’t the most original name, but the pit bull mix puppy was black and white and had huge dark eyes and she had been all alone in that alley, eating out of a dumpster, and Peter hadn’t had a lot of time to think of good dog names.)

His dad was off with Pepper on a business trip until the next day. Which meant Peter had less than 24 hours to fix this. 

Peter had been on his way home from school when he’d found Oreo in that alley. She had looked so sad...how was he supposed to say no to literal puppy eyes? And he was already making his case so his dad would let him keep her. He was graduating from high school next year, and he’d already decided to do online classes for his first year of college, so he’d be at home to take care of her! And he would make sure to walk her every single day and feed her and give her fresh water and the puppy would sleep in his room and his dad wouldn’t have to do anything!

Except...Peter had brought her straight home to the tower. And then he’d left her on their floor for just long enough to go to the closest store and buy her food and water bowls and a pink collar and a matching leash and a whole bag full of toys and a box to hold the toys and now...now the living room had been destroyed.

Oreo lay on the sofa, which had been ripped along the edges, looking up at him innocently. And right beneath her was a pile of what he had to assume was poop. The vase on top of the coffee table had been knocked over, and the floor was covered in glass shards, the flower petals scattered around the room. The throw pillows had been destroyed as well, and lay in pieces on the floor. One of the chairs had been knocked over, the wooden leg chewed up, and the curtains and blinds lay in a pile on the ground. 

“Shit,” Peter whispered, dropping the bags on the floor, then rethinking that and placing them on the kitchen counter where she couldn’t get them. “Oreo...bad! Bad girl!” he hissed, as though she had any idea what that meant. The dog wagged her tail, making a little whining noise, and rolling over onto her back, then peeing on the sofa. 

Tony was going to kill him.

For the most part, Peter felt like his place in his dad’s life was solid. Safe. Tony had adopted him. Peter called him dad. Pepper was like his mom, even if he didn’t call her that. Still, she loved him and he loved her. He’d even told Tony that he was totally okay with them getting married. But now, looking around the living room, he felt a cold dread start to uncoil in his stomach. He’d brought a dog into the house. Without asking. And the dog had destroyed the living room. He could clean some of it...but what would Tony say? Would he be really mad?

Mad enough to…

Peter couldn’t even finish the thought, leaning against the wall as his throat seemed to close up. No. No, no...it had been a mistake! He hadn’t meant to! Oreo whined, hopping off the sofa, then lay on the floor beside where Peter had sat, nudging him with her nose. Lifting a shaking hand, he rested it on her head, leaning his head forward and resting his face on her. “Hey...it’s okay,” he whispered, ruffling her fur. “I know you didn’t mean to. It wasn’t your fault.” 

It wasn’t. Oreo was just a dog. She didn’t know any better. And Peter...well, Peter was screwed.

Peter forced himself to his feet, trying to wipe his face of tears and convince his heart rate to chill out, then froze when he heard the footsteps. Feeling himself go pale, Peter picked the dog up, looking around wildly as the footsteps came from the elevator, then changed his mind and put her back on the ground. It wasn’t his dad...couldn’t be his dad! Because his dad wasn’t due back for another day! And he had to fix this! He had to fix it before his dad got home because if his dad saw this then he might…

No. He wouldn’t. Right? 

To Peter’s surprise, it was Steve Rogers who stepped out of the elevator, turning the corner and entering the kitchen. Peter hadn’t seen the man for a few days, and in the month since he and Sam had moved in, he’d only talked to Steve Rogers two or three times, including the day that his dad had introduced him to both men as his son. And the two of them had been friendly, but they’d kept to themselves for the most part, staying on their own floor. 

Apparently, today was the day that Steve Rogers came to visit. 

The man came to an abrupt halt as soon as he lifted his head and caught sight of Peter standing behind the island. He knew that his eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was probably pale...he was sure he looked sick, and his heart was still beating out of his chest, stomach turning with the nausea that panic always brought. Steve’s eyebrows drew together, and he looked around the kitchen, obviously not seeing Oreo who lay at Peter’s feet. “Peter? Are you alright?” the man asked, voice soft as he took another step forward. 

“I...um…” He glanced down at Oreo, trying to come up with an excuse, and Steve came even closer.

“Are you sick? Do you need to call Tony? Or...did something happen at school?” Steve’s concern was a little awkward as they’d never had a real conversation. But the man had never been anything but kind to him, and...maybe he could help. He was a grown up, after all. Couldn’t grown ups fix things? (Peter stubbornly ignored the voice in his head that reminded him that he was almost a grown up too.)

“I...I messed up,” he admitted softly, hoping he was about to get friendly-Steve and not Detention-PSA-Steve. 

The man nodded, giving Peter his full attention. “Okay...what happened?” 

Peter swallowed, then reached down, picking Oreo, who was suddenly the calmest dog in the city, into his arms and standing back up. Steve’s eyes widened as he looked from the dog to the bags on the counter back to Peter. “You...you got a dog?”

“I was walking home from school and she was in an alley and she was eating from a dumpster but I couldn’t just leave her! She’s so skinny and she was scared and she followed me and…”

Steve held up a hand and smiled, expression that same kind one that Peter had gotten used to, then held the same hand out for Oreo to sniff, then lick, her tail thumping against Peter’s side. “Hey, sweetie. What’s your name?”

“I was, uh...I’ve just been calling her Oreo,” Peter admitted, flushing.

“You do look like an Oreo,” the man practically cooed, and the dog in Peter’s arms wiggled happily. “So...I’m guessing you didn’t ask permission before bringing her home?”

“No, but...but I was going to tell my dad that I’d take care of her and I’d let her sleep in my room and that she wouldn’t be any trouble...but...I went out to get her food and…” Peter gestured behind him, and Steve walked around the island, following Peter to the living room. The two of them stood side by side for a moment, and Peter squeezed the dog in his arms. “He’s going to be really mad.”

Steve must have heard the fear in Peter’s voice because he turned and rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m sure he won’t be as mad as you think. One look at Oreo here and he’ll understand.”

“I just...I’m scared that he’ll…” Peter swallowed and the man beside him frowned.

“Scared that he’ll what?” 

“That he’ll...that he won’t want me anymore,” Peter admitted in a whisper, feeling dumb just saying it. 

Steve shook his head. “Peter…”

“I know it’s dumb!” he hurried on, petting Oreo’s head to distract himself from the conversation. From the pounding in his heart and the turning of his stomach. “I know that he probably wouldn’t but...I just...I don’t want to cause him trouble and…”

“Peter, Tony loves you more than he loves anyone on this planet.” Steve’s voice was soft and kind, and he left his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does with you. You’re his son, Peter. He loves you. And I don’t think he’ll be thrilled when he sees his living room, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do that would make him love you any less.”

Peter peeked up at him, then back at the living room. “You really think so?”

“I know so, Peter.” Steve patted his shoulder, then ruffled Oreo’s fur. “So...how about we get this cleaned up, huh?”

He blinked in surprise. “Oh...you don’t have to…”

“I’ve got nothing else to do. Come on. Why don’t we put her in your room, then we’ll see what we can do with the living room before Tony gets home?”

Peter was using a paper towel to clean up the poop on the floor, Oreo secure in his room with a bowl of water, when the elevator dinged again. He and Steve both froze, staring at the elevator doors, and Steve moved to stand beside him, lending silent support, when Sam Wilson stepped out, faltering and looking at them with a lifted eyebrow.

“What the hell did you two do in here?” he asked with the hint of a smirk. Steve chuckled, patting Peter on the shoulder.

“Peter got a dog.”

“Yeah?” Sam glanced around the room, eyes landing on the destroyed chair leg. “I think he might be teething.”

“She’s a girl,” Peter corrected in a small voice.

Sam rolled his eyes. “She’s a terror, apparently.” The man headed straight for the window, grabbing the curtains off the floor, and together, the three of them started to clean, Peter feeling that dread in his stomach slowly start to ease until he was laughing at Sam’s stories of going on Avengers missions with Steve, and Steve’s war stories. It was strange, but they made him feel a little less afraid. They hadn’t been freaked out or angry, and no, it wasn’t their house, but still. Maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as he’d feared. Still, his mind kept flashing back to that first foster home...where he’d broken a doorknob. That had been all it had taken for them to get rid of him. 

Like he was a dog who’d torn up the living room.

One they’d cleaned and put everything back as best they could, minus the vase, which was ruined, and the couch and cushions, which would need to be replaced, Steve made dinner, the two of them staying with Peter without being asked. He took Oreo down to the courtyard to use the bathroom, ruffling her fur and letting her run around, then came back to find the men sitting on the ruined sofa, flipping through possible movies. 

About to go to his room, Peter was surprised when Sam called him over. “Where you going, kid? Come watch a movie with us.”

“Oh...I mean...are you sure?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Of course, kid. It’s the whole reason we came up here.”

“We thought you might be bored by yourself,” Steve clarified. “And we haven’t really had the chance to talk since we moved back in.”

So, carrying Oreo and setting her down on the sofa, Peter curled up in his usual corner and watched the movie that Sam and Steve chose. And it was nice. Sure, he was worried about his dad. And yeah, he was very aware that his dad and these two men had history, and that he was keeping a huge secret from them. And that he still had homework. But the anxiety and panic had taken it out of him, as had the constant worrying, the cleaning, and the five pieces of garlic bread he’d eaten with dinner. So he rested his head on a ruined pillow resting on the arm of the sofa, Oreo sound asleep against his stomach, and the last thing he knew was someone draping a blanket over him.

Voice woke him. Soft voices. Oreo shifted and he rested his hand on her back, hoping she’d settle. He was so tired.

“You’re back early.”

“Yeah...I missed my kid. What are you two doing here?”

“We thought we’d spend some time with him. Figured he might be lonely by himself. But, uh...there was an issue.” Steve spoke in a whisper and had it not been for Peter’s enhanced hearing, he might have been able to drift back to sleep. 

“What kind of issue?” his dad asked, sounding upset.

“Well...he...he found a dog on his way home from school. And apparently he was going to buy her some food when she tore up some things in the living room. We cleaned it up, for the most part, and she’s sleeping with him on the couch,” Steve said quickly, as if hurrying to finish before his dad could interrupt. Peter opened his eyes, the panic coming back in full force. “He was, uh...he was pretty scared.”

“Scared?” Tony asked, his voice drifting closer.

“Scared that you’d...that you’d send him away.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Then footsteps moving away from him, and the soft ding of an elevator before a hand came to rest on his hair. “You awake, Pete?”

“Mhm,” Peter muttered, faking a yawn. Oreo shifted in his arms under the blanket and he willed her to stay still. “Dad? Time is it?”

“A little after midnight.” The hand ruffled his hair, and then the man came around the sofa and sat beside his feet. “I heard we have a new member of the family.” It was said with what sounded like a smile, and Peter risked a peek at him before nodding.

“I’m sorry. I swear...I didn’t know she’d tear everything up. And...and I’ll use my allowance to pay for the sofa. Or...or I’ll get a job! And…”

“Pete, I don’t care about the sofa,” his dad murmured, shaking his head a little. “I care that you think I would ever send you away. Especially over something like a couch.”

“And a vase,” Peter reminded him, eyes downcast.

“Peter, you could burn down the tower and I still wouldn’t send you away. You’re my son. You don’t know that by now?” His dad’s question was gentle, but Peter still felt his stomach give an unhappy flip.

“I just...I mean, yeah.” He sat up, and Oreo lay her head on his lap under the blanket, tail wagging and making the blanket move. His dad smiled faintly at the sight. “The first foster home...I broke a doorknob. Because I was upset. I didn’t mean to but...they...they got rid of me.”

“Hey, look at me.” His dad leaned in, putting a hand under his chin and looking as serious as Peter had ever seen him. “They were wrong to do that to you, Peter. Even if you’d meant to break it. I’m sorry they treated you like that, kiddo. Because you deserve a home where you’re safe, even if you break something. Even if you sneak a dog into the house that tears up the living room. Stuff can be replaced. You can’t.” 

Peter swallowed hard, doing his best not to let the tears fall and smiling tremulously. 

“You can’t,” Tony reiterated. “Not ever. You’re my kid, and I love you more than anything in this tower.” He looked down at the blanket, eyebrow lifted. “I would like to meet the creature responsible, though.”

As if summoned, Oreo shook off the blanket and scrambled out of Peter’s lap and into Tony’s. He chuckled, ruffling her fur, then picking her up and giving her a once over. “What’s your name?”

“Oreo,” Peter murmured. Like Steve, Tony gave a serious nod. 

“Good name for a good dog. You will be a good dog, right? Because my fiancee might not be as forgiving as I am.” 

Oreo barked and whined happily, wiggling until Tony put her down, then hopping onto the floor and running circles around them. 

“Alright, Pete. Why don’t you take your new dog out, and then you can go to bed, huh? We’ll get breakfast at that place you like in the morning.” 

Peter nodded, leaning in and throwing his arms around his dad, the weight that had been crushing him all day evaporating. His dad wasn’t mad. He wasn’t going to send him away. He still had a home. Still had a family. His dad squeezed him tightly, kissing the side of his hair. 

“I love you, dad,” Peter whispered, and Tony patted his back.

“I love you too, buddy. More than anything. Don’t you ever forget it.” 


End file.
